Why everyone should be reading ‘The Black Agenda’

‘No matter where you show up on the spectrum of Blackness, the United States owes you something’, begins the foreword of ‘The Black Agenda’. 

Edited by Anna Gifty Opoku-Agyeman, and populated with essays by Black scholars and experts from  many walks of life, ‘The Black Agenda’ shows readers exactly why this statement is true, and how the United States must change to become more equitable, intersectional, and just.

Each essay in ‘The Black Agenda’, while different in content, soulfully urges its reader to internalize the importance of change in America. There are plenty of unique expertises and lived experiences, alongside helpful figures.  Taken together, they add up to an overwhelming conviction: oh shit, something really needs to change. This sensation, at least for me, paired nicely with the other sensation of: oh shit, I need to be a part of this change.

Part of what makes the book so inspirational is the powerful writers’ presence behind each essay. The editor writes that ‘The Black Agenda’ is a love letter to Black experts, that recognises the “tireless and relentless work of Black research and policy experts that often goes unnoticed.” The book explores race, gender, and other political and social ideas from essayists such as Dr. Sandy Darity, Dr. Hedwig Lee, Mary Heglar, and Janelle Jones, all of whom provide a broad spectrum of expertises to learn from. 

And the work pays off. From Black experiences such as the unjustness of algorithmic bias (artificial intelligence bias) to Black people to the discrediting Black, Queer influencers, the book does a fantastic job of informing a general reader about the deep intersectionalities that lie within Blackness. An added bonus: it provides the perfect, shareable fact for when you’re struggling at Thanksgiving conversations with your racist aunt who thinks most people ‘don’t see skin color’.

I especially enjoyed the essays about less mainstream conversations in America, such as, ‘Centering Black Queer creatives in Sustainability’, by arii lynton-smith, which encapsulated the essence of intersectionality. This essay gives us the history of influencers in sustainability, talking about how many of the current sustainability trends (in industries like fashion and makeup) and sustainability influencers rose to popularity through Black practices that Black people have grown up with for decades. 

lynton-smith writes, ‘We shopped at thrift stores and repaired our clothes. We were doing zero-waste swaps before they were viral internet hacks, not because it was aesthetic, but because it was survival.’

The problem? That white influencers are often exalted for sustainability trends that originate from Black creatives, with little to no credit. There’s a reason why, besides maybe Leah Thomas, there are far more popular white influencers in the sphere of environmentalism. Finding a Black and Queer well-known influencer? As lynton-smith writes: nearly impossible.

lynton-smith goes on to talk about creating a space for those existing at the intersection of Queer theory, Black liberation, and Sustainability. She captures the essence of intersectionality in this essay, and along with the essays by other contributors, the theme of intersectionality remains strong.

In particular, some essays had both facts and numbers, exemplified by moments of individualized stories. 

In ‘Queer as in Abolishing the Police: Criminal Justice and Black LGBTQ People’, for example, the essays begins with this fact: ‘At the current pace of decarceration, it will take twenty-four years for the federal prison population to return to pre-mass incarceration levels, sixty-eight years for state prison populations to return to pre-mass incarceration levels, and nineteen years for the Black incarceration rate to equal the 2019 white incarceration rate.’

Although I was moved by this essay, it wasn’t just because of numbers like that one. It was because it later told the story of  Michael Johnson, a gay Black collegiate wrestler. Johnson was diagnosed with HIV, and claims to have informed all of his sexual partners of his diagnosis. He was sentenced to 30 years. The reason? ‘Recklessly infecting another with HIV’.

This particular story wholly illustrated how the American criminal injustice system mistreats Queer, Black people, in a way that was personal, and woven cleverly into the rest of the essay. For those reasons, it resonated deeply and memorably with me.

More stories like Johnson’s would strengthen the collection. The pages of The Black Agenda wanted for more life and human-ness, alongside the facts and numbers that were inherently about life and human-ness. 

But don’t get me wrong- this book is still entirely worth the read, even for story lovers like me. The importance of ‘The Black Agenda’ really does lie in its ability to provide myriads of must-know information about the Black experience. I completely understand the value of centering structural problems. It is reminiscent of legendary feminist writer bell hooks’ ideas in this way.

Poison Under Our Feet, A Review of Paradise Falls: The True Story of an Environmental Catastrophe

A town where rocks burst into flames. That sounds like the start to a sci-fi epic. Yet Paradise Falls: The True Story of an Environmental Catastrophe by Keith O’Brien is no piece of fiction. It takes place in the very real town of Niagara Falls, New York. Although small, Niagara Falls is famous for two big things. The first—the enormous cascading waterfall of the same name which borders the town. The second—the worst public health crisis of its time and, consequently, the driving force behind the Environmental Protection Agency’s Superfund program. 

Image of a Home in Niagara Falls, New York
[Source: Politico]

Children playing outside on a warm summer day—this is how readers are introduced to the neighborhood of eastern Niagara Falls. But that picture changes rapidly as Paradise Falls tells the story of how the community of Niagara Falls discovered the tremendous amount of toxic waste upon which their homes, businesses, and school were built and the events that followed. The book spans the decade-long environmental and public health emergency and the battle for a safe living environment. 

Beneath the eastern part of Niagara Falls was an old forgotten waterway, Love Canal. Or, it was forgotten by most. The owners of the chemical company that was the biggest employer in Niagara Falls, Hooker Chemical, remembered Love Canal. Throughout the 1940s, Hooker Chemical dumped tons of toxic waste into the canal—out of sight, out of mind. Hooker Chemical then filled and sealed the canal in the 1950s and sold the land to the school district for the cost of one dollar, with the stipulation that the school district wouldn’t hold Hooker Chemical responsible for anything that may occur due to the buried chemicals (chemicals which they ‘forgot’ to mention in the first place). 

Those chemicals remained hidden, little known, for nearly twenty years. There were stories of children blinded after playing with rocks in the playground or the strong pungent smell that wafted through the neighborhood. But these signs were ignored, intentionally or otherwise, until the 1970s. That is when Paradise Falls picks up.

The personal stories woven into Paradise Falls are what make it a captivating read. Some are devastating—such as that of the Kenny family who lost their youngest son, Jon Allen, due to chemical exposure. His illness quickly spiraled, leaving the Kenny family in despair and angry as doctors were unable to do anything to help. Some stories are inspiring, like Beverly Paigen’s role as a whistleblower at a research institute that was part of the New York State Department of Health. Paigen raised the alarm about abnormal rates of illness in Niagara Falls, even as her colleagues and bosses tried to sweep it under the rug. Beverly Paigen offers an inspiring story about putting your career, and even life, on the line. Paradise Falls also makes sure to have Lois Gibbs—one the most famous environmental health activists to come out of the Love Canal crisis—as one of the central figures of the book. Throughout all of Paradise Falls, the stories of the women who fought for their communities and neighbors fill the pages. 

While weaving together these narratives, Paradise Falls also addresses the inequities and discrimination that played a large part in the story. As women were the leaders of the demand for safety in Niagara Falls, sexism didn’t fall far behind. Readers follow battles against the then governor of New York, Hugh Carey, who refused to take the concerns of “housewives with no scientific training” seriously. Paradise Falls also addresses the disparities around which activists’ voices were uplifted and which were suppressed, as white homeowning activists garnered much more attention than their Black or brown renting counterparts.  

Paradise Falls tells the story of the community of Niagara Falls which fought for the right to knowledge and a safe home. It reads more as a harrowing account of a town in crisis than a dull recollection of historical documents. It lays out a complex history in short paragraphs with quippy lines that keep the reader engaged. From alarmingly high rates of miscarriages and cancer to governmental hearings, readers follow a number of individuals and the struggles that united them. Paradise Falls goes in-depth into the story of Niagara Falls and how it has changed the United States forever, as the severity of health impacts combined with the strength of activists led to the creation of the Superfund program by Congress and raised awareness that sites like Love Canal were not rare. Paradise Falls also leads the reader to ask important questions they may have never had to ask before, such as what human-made threats exist beneath their feet? Paradise Falls brings to the forefront how the legacy of industrialization has poisoned countless communities and what our current actions might mean for future generations. 

The small town of Niagara Falls, thanks to the perseverance of many activists, was able to change the role of the U.S. government in addressing dangerously contaminated sites. It serves as a lesson in the power of many voices and how a group fighting for the right to a safe environment can result in massive change.

From NEPA to Now: The Evolution of Environmental Law through Richard Lazarus’ Lens

“I completely underestimated how much, among other things, the sort of wicked dimensions of climate change were going to cause upheaval and ultimately disaster as time is of the essence and we are just screwing up every which way,” Professor Richard Lazarus says looking back on his first edition of “The Making of Environmental Law.” After two decades of dynamic environmental policymaking and legal precedents, Harvard Law Professor Lazarus explores environmental law developments in his latest edition.

In Lazarus’ latest edition of, “The Making of Environmental Law,” he delves into a multidimensional analysis of environmental law, offering insight and guidance for those interested in leveraging legal mechanisms to advocate for the environment. 

The first section identifies the issues at the heart of environmental challenges including climate change, biodiversity loss, pollution, and more. By tying these issues together, Lazarus reveals the underlying “wickedness” of climate change. This is crucial to understand what follows in Lazarus’ book because, well, environmental law is complicated. 

Understanding the complexity of environmental law begins with acknowledging its history. Lazarus provides a detailed timeline of environmental law in the United States, explaining landmark rulings and pivotal moments. According to Lazarus, the field of environmental law emerged through three pivotal moments in 1970: the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and the Clean Air Act.

President Richard Nixon Signs the Clean Air Act of 1970. [Credit: White House Photo Office.]

The 1970s, the beginning of the United States environmental law road, left a legacy of bipartisanship within government and environmental strides, such as Scenic Hudson Preservation Conference vs. Federal Power Commission. Within that decade alone, the federal government enacted over 15 environmental statutes. 

The advancements of environmental law that emerged in the 80s and 90s stand in stark contrast with the laws of the past two decades. 

Environmental law in the past two decades has been erratic. In President Obama’s first two years in office, the administration made significant environmental legal strides. In 2010, however, partisan gridlock made long lasting progress difficult. President Obama was still able to join the Paris Climate Accords and reject the Keystone XL Pipeline. Then in 2016, President Trump cut back almost every major environmental initiative of the Obama administration. The Trump administration did not stop there, though. Even former Republican-led legislation faced cutbacks. 

President Trump’s legacy did not end with his loss in 2020. During his Administration, President Trump was able to place three Justices on the Supreme Court and many more in other federal courts. With Justice Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett all on the Supreme Court, legal precedent for environmental protection is in danger.

Lazarus makes it clear to the reader that President Trump’s administration has been the greatest challenge to US environmental law since the 1970s. 

Additionally, Lazarus delves into the views of activists, lobbyists, judges, and corporations. Environmental activists held divided opinions when environmental justice efforts were first introduced. Lazarus cites the divisions between elite and grassroots environmentalists. 

In this context, Lazarus also informs activists about corporations’ about the competing views each group holds. By utilizing environmental economics, the reader is able to understand the incentives for corporations just as the reader can understand the views of activists. 

Lazarus also details how ordinary citizens and organizations can effect change. Ways to impact legal change can range from environmental scorecards developed by the League of Conservation Voters all the way to Indigenous communities advocating for sovereign environmental regulatory authority.

Without varying perspectives, this book would have fallen short of truly assessing the development of environmental law. Lazarus’ ability to articulate the story of environmental law while lending every actor a seat in history adds richness to the narrative and a nuanced understanding of the complexities involved in legal discourse around environmental issues.

Climate Activists Attending an Our Generation, Our Choice Protest in 2015. [Credit: Johnny Silvercloud]

Throughout the book, Lazarus argues persuasively that the law is not just a set of rules but a dynamic field continually shaped by the people engaging with it. 

Lazarus provides a roadmap for how to navigate the complex labyrinth of environmental law, from engaging with policymakers to grassroots activists. Rather than leaving the reader with feelings of despair in the wake of climate change, Lazarus offers practical advice for those looking to use the law as a positive force for environmental change. 

With Richard Lazarus’ knowledge and expertise, the Second Edition of “The Making of Environmental Law” is a must-read for anyone passionate about environmental issues and eager to understand how the law can be a powerful tool for change. Comprehensive, enlightening, and inspiring, this book is more than just an academic resource; it is a guidebook for action.

 

‘The Making of Environmental Law’, Second Edition By Richard Lazarus. The University of Chicago Press, 2022. Paperback: 440 pages

‘The Making of Environmental Law’, Second Edition. By Richard Lazarus. The University of Chicago Press, 2022. Paperback: 440 pages.

 

 

Building Green: What Would Nature Do?

A city made up of hemp and mushroom buildings seems like a scene out of a science fiction novel. Yet, these materials are being used right now to build buildings that can help combat climate change. 

In his book, The New Carbon Architecture, Bruce King explores numerous naturally sourced building materials contributing to sustainable construction. With more than 40 years of experience as a structural engineer and 35 years as a prominent figure in the green building movement, King is an expert on materials capable of locking carbon away in buildings. He demonstrates his vast knowledge by covering everything from conventional materials like wood, steel, and concrete, to lesser-known options like bio-based plastics and recycled fish-net nylon. 

While bio-based plastics sound fascinating, the green building hubbub these days is about improving energy efficiency and cutting down on operational emissions. If these are the big concerns, why did King bother to write an entire book on building materials?

King reasons that as we succeed in improving the energy efficiency of buildings, the relative importance of embodied carbon– all of the carbon emitted before a building’s operation– will only increase with time. Taking into account the carbon emitted during the extraction and manufacturing of building materials, its transportation, and the building process itself, embodied carbon accounts for 20% of a building’s total carbon footprint over its entire lifespan. As building operations become more efficient, this 20% is only going to matter more. 

To tackle embodied carbon, King turns to nature for the solution. 

Think about it. Most living creatures harness their energy from the sun, not from fossil fuels. Plants and animals don’t have all of the modern resources that humans do; they create their homes using what’s readily available in their environment, such as clamshells and bird nests. King believes that mimicking nature is the key to reducing our environmental impact.

That sounds great in theory. But how can nature’s strategies be translated into modern construction practices? King offers several strategies.

Just like birds collect twigs for their nests, builders can use more wood. As a carbon sink, sustainably harvested wood is capable of locking carbon away in buildings. Sourcing wood locally can reduce transportation and cut carbon emissions even more.

Less obviously, straw can also be a major carbon sink. Typically, the plants’ stalks are burned or decomposed after harvesting grain. Rather than emitting the carbon back into the atmosphere, the straw can be used as insulation or it can be compressed into boards and panels.

Considering that wood and straw can only compose so much of a structure, King makes sure to cover all his bases– quite literally. Most building foundations and structures are built with cement– the production of which makes up 6% of all anthropogenic carbon emissions. Nature offers another alternative: clay.

While clay may evoke images of art class and crumbling pinch pots, some of the oldest standing buildings are made with “mud brick.” Now companies are researching and creating clay-based cement alternatives. With more research, clay may be a viable, eco-friendly alternative to cement.

Outside of the more ‘boring’ or basic building blocks, King also explores using less traditional materials, like insulation made from mushrooms and hemp. Unfortunately, he doesn’t make it through his explanation without a dad joke—which are everywhere in his book—saying hemp can be used for “anything but smok[ing].” 

Hemp Insulation

Despite his enthusiasm for these alternative building strategies, King’s most sober point is that new buildings need to be avoided whenever possible. 

The equation is simple: more buildings equals more emissions. No matter how sustainable, carbon emissions are unavoidable with new construction.

Rather than constructing new buildings, renovating and retrofitting existing ones with energy-efficient systems can save money and carbon emissions. Since the majority of embodied carbon is emitted when the buildings are first built, renovations can save embodied and operational energy, emitting 50-75% less carbon than new buildings. 

With a growing population, new buildings can’t be avoided altogether. However, King points out that many new buildings are built out of desire rather than need. Consulting nature can provide yet another answer: use and build only what is truly needed. After all, bird mansions and clams with three vacation shells don’t exist. 

In the service of a more sustainable building sector and society, The New Carbon Architecture looks to nature to lower the embodied carbon emissions of buildings. With humor and wit, King offers a refreshing, positive, and much-needed perspective to the climate conversation. The New Carbon Architecture demonstrates that using our intelligence and imagination, with insight from nature, a greener future is more than possible. 

Kings of Their Own Ocean: Bluefin Tuna and the World

On long, wing-like fins the Atlantic bluefin tuna carve their way through the ocean depths. Their speed almost rivals their size, making these amongst the most powerful and energetic fish in the ocean. The largest of the tuna species, they can reach a whopping 13 feet long and weigh up to 2000 pounds.

One tuna among these giants, affectionately named Amelia after Amelia Earhart, was the catalyst for Karen Pinchin’s Kings of Their Own Ocean: Tuna, Obsession, and the Future of Our Seas. Amelia was caught 3 times in her life; twice she was tagged and released along the Atlantic coast of the United States and the final time in the Mediterranean Sea. Pinchin follows tuna from Rhode Island to Nova Scotia to Madrid to Tokyo, weaving together the stories connecting humans to these fish and showing how people’s lives have been changed by the phenomenon of the Atlantic bluefin tuna.

School of bluefin tuna. // credit: United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization/ Danilo Cedrone, US Fish and Wildlife Service

Al Anderson, a charter captain who spent the majority of his life in Rhode Island, was a prolific tagger of fish. His chartered trips were not about conquest in the traditional sense. The clients on his boat – The Prowler – did not go home with 300 pound bluefin tuna. Instead, Anderson devoted his career to tagging fish, serving as a steward of fish populations across the north Atlantic coast. Anderson’s lengthy career was founded on encouraging sustainable fishing, documenting his fishing excursions, writing books and newspaper columns, and tagging thousands of fish. In one day, Al and his clients could tag and release up to 55 juvenile bluefin tuna, saving one mature tuna for dinner. Amelia, the tuna Pinchin features in Kings of their Own Ocean, was one of the nearly 5000 tuna tagged on The Prowler. Anderson caught Amelia in 2004 when she weighed only 10 pounds and released her back into the water.

Molly Lutcavage, a scientist in Massachusetts tagged Amelia a second time in 2007. This was a rare feat. Lutcavage said it felt “like Christmas” to catch a fish that had been previously tagged. In a 2015 acceptance speech of an award from the International Game Fishing Association’s Hall of Fame, Al Anderson highlights the significance of this: “Releasing tagged gamefish was, and still is, one of the biggest thrills that I’ve ever had, simply because it offers the possibility, thanks to tagging, of increasing our scientific knowledge about migratory gamefish behavior.” By expanding efforts and technologies related to fish tagging, scientists could compile widespread data involving the migratory patterns and lifespans of crucial species that were previously misunderstood.

Like many Atlantic bluefin tuna, Amelia’s life ended in a fishing net in 2018. However, just like many legends, her death did not end her story. Thanks to her tags, Amelia’s death offered insight into the lives of Atlantic bluefin tuna.  During her life, Amelia had crossed a boundary that had thought to be impossible: she crossed the 45 degree west meridian line. This line, bisecting the East and the West of the Atlantic ocean and separating the bluefin tuna stock in two, had been used since the 1970’s to ignore the need of international legislation to protect bluefin tuna. Amelia, by migrating across this regulatory boundary imposed upon her, was herself another whistleblower showing that this was not just an issue for local jurisdictions.

The 45 degree west meridian line is now considered arbitrary when regulating many migratory ocean species, especially so in the case of bluefin tuna. Originally drawn to separate the legal rights to fish certain populations of tuna, and also to avoid the responsibility for overfishing, it is now understood that tuna unite hundreds of thousands miles of ocean. This is just one example of the legacy left behind by the rapid development in fisheries technology. Throughout the decades of innovation, measures have been approached by many countries on both sides of the Atlantic to strike a balance between commercial interests and the protection of species. Unfortunately, as the fishing industry grows globally, regulation lags behind. The casualties aren’t human, they are the hundred of thousands of pounds of fish discarded as a result of mass over-harvest, they are the populations fished to collapse for profits.

Despite being fished to near collapse year after year since the 1980’s, bluefin tuna remain a prized fish. Valued for fatty, flavorful flesh, bluefin tuna sell for eye-popping prices in fish markets. At the beginning of 2023, a 467 pound tuna sold for $275,000 USD in a Japanese fish market. Prices this high not only drive the “luxury” craze of bluefin tuna, but also encourage fishers to do anything to chase that profit.

This economic drive was not invented in one day. An example of this greed is the 1971 bluefin tuna hustle of fisherman Frank Cyganowski’s partnership with a Japanese mega-cargo ship. Cyganowski would sell locally caught Atlantic bluefin bought from local fisherman to Japanese seafood wholesalers for a 100% markup, filling a ship built to hold 272 tonnes of frozen cargo. The next year, even more Japanese ships came to Cyganowski, this time offering 200% higher profits than the previous offer. This was just the beginning.

Al Anderson holding a juvenile Atlantic bluefin tuna. This fish may well have been Amelia. // Courtesy of Jason Williams, Karen Pinchin

Kings of Their Own Ocean is a great read even for those unfamiliar with the salty decks of fishing boats or the shouts of a seafood market. Pinchin’s writing combines the history of fishing regulations with the stories of those who have been fascinated by the Atlantic bluefin for centuries. Her analysis reveals the dire state of our fisheries, due to mismanagement from the 19th century to the present day, with worrisome implications for the future. But Pinchin has hope, inspired by Amelia and the many other fish she encountered in her reporting, that bluefin tuna can prevail in the battles they fight every day. Uniting science, history, food, and biography with compelling investigative journalism, Pinchin creates an engaging and powerful narrative that explores the past, present, and future of Atlantic bluefin tuna.

 

‘Kings of Their Own Ocean: Tuna, Obsession, and the Future of Our Seas’

By Karen Pinchin Dutton.

Penguin Random House, July 18, 2023. Hardcover: 320 pages

 

Unmasking the Human Toll of Climate Change: Review of “The Great Displacement”

There used to be a town in California called Greenville. It was nestled in a mountain valley, hidden by a screen of trees, and home to “retirees, hippies, bikers, rednecks, ranchers, [and] cowboys.”

Jake Bittle introduces us to Greenville in the opening lines of his book, The Great Displacement. But just as soon as Greenville is introduced, we also learn about its destruction, “Houses erupted into fluttering tufts of flame; cars shriveled up like dried flowers; light poles and stop signs doubled over; trees dissolved into yellow air.”

In 2021, a 150-year-old town disappeared in an evening.  A summer wildfire, intensified by climate-induced drought, burned it to the ground.

For most, climate change has existed as an abstract idea represented by overwhelming graphs and figures depicting rising temperatures. Bittle’s book makes us confront the ways in which climate change is already reshaping our country: “Each passing year brings disasters that disfigure new parts of the United States, and these disasters alter the course of human lives, pushing people from one place to another, destroying old communities and forcing new ones to emerge.”

The Great Displacement looks at several communities that have been affected by climate change, and how the lives of the surviving residents have been altered by extreme weather. Bittle’s interviews with these residents bring the human impact of climate change to the forefront through vivid pictures of the aftermath of climate disasters.

Too often, it is the poor and marginalized who are most affected, and who do not receive enough help from the US’s disaster relief systems. A main part of Bittle’s argument is advocating for policies to address the lack of affordable housing to ensure that everyone has access to housing, before and after disasters. When climate disasters displace people from their homes, forcing them to seek alternative housing, affordable housing options become crucial.

One of the affected communities Bittle spotlights is Lincoln City, a historically Black neighborhood in Kinston, North Carolina on the Neuse River. Bittle describes the yearslong, convoluted recovery process residents of Lincoln City experienced after flooding from two hurricanes (Fran in 1996 and Floyd in 1999). But he doesn’t just explain the aftermath of a climate disaster, he gives a historical background to contextualize how Lincoln City became so vulnerable.

The needs of the river community have been historically neglected. In the 1980s, the US Army Corps of Engineers abandoned a plan to build a dam that would have protected Kinston; “The most vulnerable land there was also the least valuable: thanks to decades of discriminatory housing practices, the flood-prone territory near the Neuse [River] was where most of Kinston’s black population resided.”

After Hurricane Floyd, FEMA’s primary natural disaster relief policy was an option for home buy-outs. More than 97% of the floodplain households accepted the buy-out offer and 90% of families relocated within Kinston. The local government declared it a success. The numbers make it seem that way: The city prevented millions of dollars in future flood damage. The relocation led to an increase in property tax revenue because the residents’ new homes were worth more than their old ones. 

Those numbers don’t tell the whole story. Despite Lincoln City residents having accepted the buy-out, Bittle explains that more than 1/3 did not feel like the buy-out was voluntary, and only 20% recalled being given other options. The alternative choices included “get nothing” or “sue the city.” Many families who took the buy-out already owned their homes in Lincoln City outright, but the buy-out money wasn’t enough to purchase a new house elsewhere upfront. That meant families had to take out new mortgages while trying to keep up with higher property taxes and increased utility bills. In the years that followed, a disturbing trend emerged: many of the households that took the buy-out would end up in foreclosure. 

Bittle is a gifted writer who capably explains the nuances of the climate crisis and its effect on people. But more importantly, Bittle is a compassionate writer. Amidst the economic, scientific, and political complexities, he unfailingly looks for the human experience. The Great Displacement is a timely book on the climate change-induced mass migration that has already begun and that will fundamentally rock our society. Beyond Greenville and Kinston, Bittle also tells us the stories of the floods in Big Pine Key, Florida, the wildfires in Santa Rosa, California, and the hurricanes in Point-Au-Chien, Louisiana. The havoc that climate change has already wrecked on our nation is frightening. The consequences it will have for the future are daunting. Despite this, Bittle ends his book on a hopeful note, one that calls upon us to recognize our duty: “The world is already being remade, but its future shape is far from set in stone.”

Nightmare with No End: Geoengineering as Described by Gernot Wagner

“What keeps me up at night – quite literally, frankly – is the fear that we might be slithering toward deploying solar geoengineering without having done the hard work,” writes author of Geoengineering: The Gamble, Gernot Wagner. Despite the lackluster writing in this book, readers will take away one main point: Geoengineering should scare you, too. 

But what is it, exactly, that the world is ‘slithering’ towards anyway? Some people think geoengineering is necessary, considering the threat of climate change. Every decade since 1880, the Earth’s temperature has increased by 0.14°F (0.08°C), and twice that following 1981 (0.32°F / 0.18°C). The results are palpable, with record breaking heat, water scarcity, and more powerful hurricanes all around the world. And scientists predict that the worst is yet to come.

Solar geoengineering, or solar radiation modification (SRM) may provide the quick ‘techno-fix’, as Wagner calls it, the world needs. Wagner defines SRM as “a largescale, deliberate intervention to cool the planet by sending a small fraction of sunlight back into space” (5). In other words, this is not about everyone painting their roofs white to reduce heat absorption. Nor does accidental geoengineering, such as ocean temperature reductions from ship emissions, make the cut. 

What makes the cut is Wagner’s focus: a form of SRM in which sulfates are released high in the atmosphere. By deliberately adding sulfate aerosols to the high altitude windstream, they can spread across the globe. The result: a theoretical mirror over the world, reflecting some of the solar energy that heats the planet back into space. 

Sound too good to be true? That’s because it is. Wagner dives into 20 reasons why. From failing to address ocean acidification and less sunlight for solar energy, to ozone depletion and unintended climatic consequences, Wagner summarizes previous research on the deleterious impacts of SRM. As a tool for solving global warming, Wagner remains adamant that what the world really needs is more research to confirm if these pros outweigh the risks. In the meantime, he emphasizes that only serious carbon dioxide emissions reductions will help prevent the need for geoengineering.

Wagner outlines many questions that need to be resolved before SRM is deployed.  He ponders who should be in charge of an SRM project, when might it be best to start one, what would happen if there are unintended consequences, and ultimately, why are people so misinformed on SRM. Wagner takes a stab at some answers, creating fictional accounts of a future world where the government is in charge of SRM versus individuals around the globe. He brings in the stories of his fellow researchers to emphasize the importance of ongoing research to prevent misunderstanding, and even muses on the nature of science itself as a self-correcting force. 

Wagner’s knowledge and thoroughness is evident. He knows SRM like the back of his hand, which makes sense. Wagner’s specialty is climate economics and he is a founding executive director of Harvard’s Solar Geoengineering Research Program. 

Despite Wagner’s expertise, however, the organization of the book is difficult to follow. It reads as more of a stream of consciousness rather than a careful examination of SRM. Wagner is also repetitive–rather than bringing up important points for emphasis, Wagner instead makes the same writing moves over and over again. These include long, difficult to follow sentences, the phrase “[word] does the work” employed dozens of times, and the same examples used ad nauseam. While brief, Geoengineering: The Gamble is still longer than it needs to be. 

If you look past mediocre writing, Wagner’s book offers a nuanced, in depth, and worldly introduction to the potentials of solar geoengineering for good and bad. Considering the current state of the climate, Wagner’s contention that geoengineering is a matter of “not if, but when,” makes this book a helpful read for anyone concerned about climate change.

Investing in the Era of Climate Change: Paving the Path to a Greener Future

“We have got a big appetite for wind or solar. If someone walks in with a solar project tomorrow and it takes a billion dollars or three billion dollars, we’re ready to do it. The more there is the better,” said Warren Buffet, one of the greatest investors in history. What prompted Buffet’s appetite for wind and solar?

In his book Investing in the Era of Climate Change, Bruce Usher, a Columbia business school professor, offers answers. He explores the implications of climate change for investment groups and how investments will save us “from ourselves.” 

Usher breaks down the implications of the climate crisis for investors in this urgent call for action. Scientists are pushing for the reduction of emissions from greenhouse gases to zero “ideally by 2050 and no later than 2070.” Drawing on analysis of past and current data, Usher projects the cost of doing so will be $125 trillion. Investing in climate change will thus be key. 

What is stopping the investments? One explanation Usher gives is the “tragedy of the horizon.” This term, coined by an English banker in 2015, refers to the perception that climate change is a distant threat, incapable of affecting the value of investments today. Usher outlines this shortsighted thinking, which views climate change as operating beyond the business cycle (quarterly to a few years), beyond the political cycle (a few years until the next election), and even beyond the scope of regulators such as central banks (two years for monetary policy, potentially a decade for the full credit cycle). In other words, this tragedy of the horizon is imposing a cost on future generations that the current generation has no direct incentive to fix.

What that approach misses, however, is that climate change is not just an environmental concern; it is a pressing financial one. In Usher’s view, “climate risk is investment risk” which directly influences investment decisions and returns. Specifically, Usher walks through the financial principle as divesting from high-risk assets, moving capital to risk-mitigating practices, and investing in businesses with solutions for the future, which can all find resonance in the context of climate change. 

One common misunderstanding, which was the mindset I had before reading this book, was that due to the problems pointed out above, sustainable investing is still at a very early and immature stage where they are extra risky and have low returns. Although sustainable investing is still new in comparison to traditional investing, there is already a lot of financing going into renewable wind and solar power and electric vehicles that make them competitive with traditional fossil fuel-powered technologies. Technologies like green hydrogen and direct air capture are also under development and receiving significant venture capital financing. The situation has changed drastically from how it looked a decade ago. 

Usher has been investing in sustainable sectors for 20 years, making him an industry pioneer. He started out on Wall Street and joined his first entrepreneurial venture, Williams Capital Group. He then was brought on to an environmental consultancy firm as its CEO. Through his experience there, Usher witnessed how business could be used as a force for good. 

When speaking of what was different 20 years ago, Usher points out that there was very little sustainable finance could do about making significant impacts in the green transition. There were very few opportunities because most of the climate solutions that were needed to reduce emissions were uncompetitive with existing products due to high costs. Today, the situation has changed. There are technologies and business models that can be used to reduce global emissions that are scalable. And investing in these technologies is able to make a real impact. 

Investing in the Era of Climate Change by no means asks for individual investors to be pioneers or to bear the burden of this global climate change battle. Instead, it offers a guide to the risks and opportunities for investors as the world faces climate change. To my surprise, Usher went beyond merely identifying the different methods of climate investing by also analyzing the mechanisms behind climate solutions and diagnosing the core issues affecting climate change. He argues that careful examination of climate solutions will offer investors a new and necessary lens on the future for their own financial benefit and for the greater good, which aligns well with how I felt after reading the book. 

Finally, Usher concludes the book by saying that every investor, whether they’re individual or institutional, will understand that these changes are coming and will act for their benefit, which is ultimately for the benefit of all. 

Investing in the Era of Climate Change is a compelling read for people interested in climate investment, regardless of how much knowledge they already have. One can walk away from this book with an understanding of why Thomas Edison said almost a hundred years ago: “I’d put my money on the sun and solar energy. What a source of power! I hope we don’t have to wait until oil and coal run out before we tackle that.”

With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility: A Review of AI in the Wild

 

AI in the Wild book cover

AI in the Wild book cover. Credits: AI in the Wild

Sorry to burst the bubble, but “artificial intelligence is never going to produce a sustainability revolution.” At least not according to Peter Dauvergne, author of AI in the Wild: Sustainability in the Age of Artificial Intelligence.

AI in the Wild is impressive when considering that it is the first book on its subject. Coming from a background of research in technology, ecosystem degradation, consumption, social movement politics, social inequality, and corporations, Dauvergne is a skilled analyst. However, the book follows many topics, which can make it hard to follow as it jumps around from conservation to smart cars to weapons of destruction. AI in the Wild’s biggest strength is the examination of the potential pitfalls of AI.

AI in the Wild presents many examples of the “complex, hidden, and capricious ways” that AI can harm the environment. Some of the most thought-provoking examples include:

  • The use of AI by fossil fuel companies could add hundreds of billions of dollars to the oil and gas industry annually by helping to find new fossil fuel sources, reduce labor costs, and ramp up production.
  • The use of AI in social media, search engines, and store cameras has the potential to increase the global retail industry by hundreds of billions, if not trillions, of dollars per year, thus drastically increasing greenhouse gas emissions.
  • The significant amount of data needed for systems like AI will result in data centers being responsible for more than 7% of global greenhouse emissions by 2040, according to the Journal of Cleaner Production.

These examples support the bigger picture Dauvergne paints. Though AI may be very advanced technology, it still cannot solve underlying issues of the environmental crisis such as resource politics, capitalism, and inequality.

In regard to inequality, AI in the Wild reminds readers that it is important to consider the impacts of AI on fragile ecosystems and marginalized people. While Dauvergne’s argument isn’t necessarily specific to AI, he does note that AI will disproportionately benefit those who can afford it. North America and China in particular are projected to hold “70 percent of the economic value of artificial intelligence over the next decade”. Marginalized communities that do not have the financial means to invest in AI will not see the same benefits. 

Plus, any environmental consequences, such as increased greenhouse gas emissions, of AI will leave even more environmental degradation for marginalized communities. These communities are already more vulnerable to climate issues such as sea level rise, drought, and increased heat in urban areas. So, while marginalized communities aren’t the primary ones causing the harm, they are certainly on the receiving end of it.

And the activists taking a stand against it? AI is putting them in even more danger than before. Environmental activists have been repressed globally for decades, with particularly severe risks in ‘developing nations’. Dauvergne notes Honduras specifically as a country where more than 125 environmental activists were murdered from 2010 to 2020. As Dauvergne acknowledges, “since at least the 1960s, security forces have been spying on activists, infiltrating grassroots movements, and instigating violence”. AI surveillance in the hands of bad actors only increases the risks of being an environmental activist.

Thankfully, Dauvergne notes that the world isn’t full of bad actors. Consider the researchers who created LarvalBot. LarvalBot is an underwater robot using computer vision AI to help restore Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. LarvalBot delivers coral larvae to areas of the reef that have been harmed by pollution, cyclones, predatory starfish, and climate change. This careful use of AI is making a positive change for the environment.

The main takeaway of AI in the Wild is that because there are valid environmental concerns to artificial intelligence, responsibility is key. Unfortunately, as with other tools, AI can’t be kept out of the hands of bad actors and it can’t solve every problem, such as consumer culture. Dauvergne states that to use AI responsibly, what’s needed is “diverse, cautious, and self-aware teams of programmers” and “more jurisdictions to regulate artificial intelligence, the internet, and big data collection”. So, while AI may not be producing a sustainability revolution any time soon, learning to responsibly utilize AI as a tool for sustainability can be an asset towards a better future.

Whales are figures of history in “Floating Coast”

A book review – featuring an interview with author Bathsheba Demuth.

What if the ‘greatest men of history’ wore a layer of blubber? In Floating Coast, bowhead whales emerge as key figures in the environmental history of the Bering Strait.A Russian communist, an American maritime capitalist, and a whale calf meet in the Bering Strait. These unlikely partners converge through time as Floating Coast follows the trajectory of human life, economic capital, and the animals that make it all possible. 

Like most scholars in the West, author Bathsheba Demuth was taught human history separately from the life sciences. Her 2019 book departs from this tradition by re-centering nonhuman life in the history of a place. In Beringia, bowhead whales emerge as figures of survival. Whale bodies supplied food to villagers in Russia and transformed into fuel and light for 19th century American cities. Together, these markets expose routines of slaughter and profit. 

Demuth, who moved to the remote Arctic following high school, eloquently captures these interactions between people and whales at several vital moments in history. Her book considers for the first time how bowhead whales may have experienced these trials personally.

I joke sometimes that I learned how to write history from working with a dog team. It’s only partly a joke.

Demuth adopts nonhuman perspectives in her book. During her time in Beringia, she learned that sled dogs have information that people do not. For one, they can hear and smell far better than humans can. That made her pay attention to the ways people pretend they are the sole decision-makers, when in reality, “they’re being mediated and negotiated with animals and the rest of the world around [them].” In the cold, harsh environment of the far North, you either work together or face extinction.

Life in Beringia isn’t easy. Straddling the northern U.S. and Russia, the harsh landscape is blanketed in snow through long, dark winters. Meanwhile, life at sea was miserable for the foreign laborers desperate enough to brave its Arctic waters. It’s in this landscape that Floating Coast traces the impacts of a devastating whaling industry through many diverse points of view.

A Russian, an American, and a whale calf meet here in the 20th century. The characters of this story seem at the surface to be polar opposites. Yet they each negotiate precarious terrains to stay alive, each life bound to the other. Demuth develops their stories by first confronting the profound limitations of human timescales. The life cycles of bowhead whales puts human history into some much-needed perspective.

Bowheads can live for more than two centuries. As Demuth explains, a whale calf was born “when the United States had not yet purchased Louisiana and the Russian empire owned Alaska. [The calf] would survive humans dreaming of utopia and nuclear apocalypse.” In scaling human conflict into the span of a single whale’s lifetime, “history” begins to recenter its key figures. 

Of course, history isn’t just about people. The characters in this dynamic story each operate within the intricate networks of life in Beringia, and within their own political contexts. The networks in which they operate are not just ecological but economic and familial. In this way, Demuth patiently reveals how ecology has never been extricable from anthropology. 

For the first time in a historical account, whales are seen for what they are: bound to people’s everyday lives. The word “resource” suddenly becomes dull and ineffective. In a world that is vibrantly alive and interconnected, exploitation becomes harder to justify. 

Yet, after colonial trade exposed indigenous communities to resource plunder, whale byproducts became central to the market. And while foreign men labored to make a wage by exporting these commodities, countless bowhead whales died.

Amazingly, this profound shift in whaling practices — from ceremonial indigenous hunting to mass industrial slaughter — impacted the behavior of bowheads in real time. After several years of relentless exploitation from foreign vessels, the whales learned to recognize American ships and altered their behavior to resist them. By centering the whales’ agency in her analysis, Demuth challenges traditional ideas of animal industries as static and fully exploitable.

The diverse spiritualities of indigenous Iñupiaq, Yupik, and Chukchi peoples help explain this change in animal behavior. As long-time members of the more-than-human community, indigenous hunters observed whale trends over the centuries. As Demuth writes, “Shamans became whales and then people again; caribou could have human faces.” For these indigenous communities, there is no strict definition of personhood. The land and sea are understood as sentient and dynamic. Bowheads are among the landscape’s chief decision-makers.

For some native peoples, survival depended on whales’ moral judgements upon distinct groups of humans. Ritual accounts describe bowhead whales who gave themselves over to die based on moral worth and ceremonial care: a respect that was not afforded to American whaling vessels. However, Demuth explains,

The thing that I saw the Soviet Union no better able to articulate in an actionable way was actually thinking very seriously about human beings as part of an ecology. [Socialism] is as much an ideology that separates the human and the rest of the world as capitalism is. 

The Beringian indigenous worldview, on the other hand, employs an intrinsically moral system. Bowheads aren’t considered mere resources. Their cosmology describes a universe constantly reincarnating, with blurring the boundaries between human and whale.

Demuth spends much of the book re-weaving lost connections, taking care to name indigenous languages and cultures while making their worlds explicit. Still, the author writes as a foreigner. According to her, “I don’t see myself either as speaking for or needing to speak for indigenous peoples around the Bering Strait. My responsibility as a historian is to [write] in a form that a wide public can understand — the consequences of, in this case, American-style capitalism and Soviet-style socialism eroding indigenous sovereignty.” For Demuth, that means taking local indigenous historians very seriously.

She cracked a warm smile. “I mean, these are not communities that require somebody from outside to represent them.” That’s something that indigenous activists, artists, and writers are doing for themselves and for their communities.

Floating Coast reimagines the Arctic as a dynamic world with no single history. The logic of capital becomes explicit as the politics of westward expansion divide people from nature. Critically, the book challenges the idea that humans are the only beings that can make political decisions. In reality, human systems of commerce are interconnected within larger, complex cycles of nature. 

The architecture of the book reinforces this theme of interconnection. Structured by strata and overlapping in time and space, the reader traverses “Sea, Shore, Land” and other chapters as histories progress and interact. “Land” and “Sea” emerge as false binaries in a place where nations converge, rift, and break apart. 

Bathsheba Demuth undermines the idea of any two ‘distinct countries.’ “In the much longer human experience of living in Beringia, people have gone back and forth across the Strait for a long time.” Despite recent political salience, life and energy continue to move constantly back and forth across the coast, across nations, and across ideologies. 

The book is not just a eulogy or an archive, but an urgent reminder that the past is ecological and interactive. History is diverse, multi-faced, and always in the making.